Devil Ears and Angel Eyes
by Umino Akiko
Summary: The same arguement with a new ending. The title isn't connected in any way. My first fic ever so please review.  even if you hate it


Disclaimer: I own many things but Star Trek is not among them.

Note: This is a little fic I wrote one day when I was bored. It's a Spock/McCoy story, it's almost all dialogue , has no place in the cannon time line, the situation is totally contrived, it isn't particularly intelligent and it's ridiculously cheesy… But hey we all like cheese right? I was told I should post it so here it is. (With a few minor revisions.) And here we go…!

_.-~*~-._I'm a line break I swear_.-~*~-._

"Doctor you are behaving quite illogically."

"Illogically! ILLOGICALLY! Spock people are dying down there and you think I'm behaving ILLOGICALLY!"

"I believe I have already stated as much, Doctor." They were in Spock's quarters having yet another of what Spock had dubbed their 'discussions.'

"Why you heartless-"

"Doctor, you of all people, as a medical man know that no humanoid can survive without a functioning heart." Spock had not meant it to sound as sarcastic as it did and if McCoy weren't so irritated he would have laughed. As it was he was irritated and so he did not laugh, instead he exploded into a fit of rage.

"God damned Vulcan son of a bitch! You emotionless computerized hobgoblin! I have never in all my life met someone as unfeeling as you!"

"Doctor, please. Calm yourself becoming over emotional is not going to help this situation in any way."

"Damn it Spock there wouldn't be a situation if you would just let me go down there and help those poor people!"

"It is in direct conflict with our orders to do so."

"But Spock, I can cure them!"

"I know. But our orders are clear. We are here only to observe the populace not to involve ourselves."

"But we can save them from a plague! " He raged, furious with Spock.

"Yes. And violate the prime directive in the process."

"So you would rather follow orders than save the live of hundreds of good people? You truly don't feel anything, you... you automaton! I was right."

"Doctor-" Spock was beginning to get extremely frustrated not that he let it show.

"You would have no idea what to do if you actually felt just one warm decent feeling!"

"Doctor, please." At this point the Vulcan scientist's voice had taken on a slightly strained tone. There is a limit to what even a Vulcan can take and the doctor's tirade was approaching that limit.

"You know what, Mr. Spock? I'm done here. I'll be in my quarters until I'm need, _Sir_." With that Dr. Leonard McCoy headed for the door.

"Doctor if you would only listen I could explain." But the door swished shut with a final "Good night, Commander," from the quietly fuming physician leaving Spock totally alone with the whispered words that came next "I do feel, Leonard McCoy. I feel for you." After this confession Spock spent the next several minutes looking as dismal and silently wallowing in his loneliness, not that he would admit to doing so, before he pulled his emotional control back together enough to get back to work.

By this time Bones had managed to stalk back to his quarters, throw a fit, slump dramatically into his seat by the desk and down almost an entire bottle of whiskey. All the while cursing Spock, Spock's parents for having him (never mind that they were nice people and he rather liked them both), Vulcans in general, the planet Vulcan for no other reason than because it exists, his own parents for conceiving him and of course himself for caring in the first place. "God damned pointy eared son of a Vulcan… I hate him you hear me!" He hollered to no one in particular "I hate him almost as much as I love him. What a deal, eh Lenny boy? You fall in love with the one man who could never love anything but a computer. Ah well, life a bitch." He took another swallow of whiskey, coughed, then glared at the bottle in thought. "Too bad they haven't come up with a cure for love yet… I probably wouldn't take it even if someone did find the cure." Holding the bottle up to the light he chuckled to himself. "A toast! To impossible dreams and to loving the wrong man!" And with that he downed the last of his liquor.

Ending thoughts of a noobish authoress: Well that's it. It's kind of funny and kind of depressing and poorly written. But there you go. Yes Subby P. I did brutally edit it into something a little more like a story. This was a oneshot but I might write a sequel if I get enough people trying to kill me.


End file.
